


Nothing Close to Normalcy

by cataclysmicconniption



Series: Unexpected Chemistry [12]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cataclysmicconniption/pseuds/cataclysmicconniption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re far from being a “normal” couple. But they have each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Close to Normalcy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fio13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fio13/gifts).



They don’t do what other couples do.

They don’t go on dates or to dinner or to the park in the middle of the night. They don’t hold hands and swing their arms in synch as they walk down the streets of Midorijima. They don’t share kisses in public, not even quick pecks on the cheek, or smile brightly while gazing lovingly in each other’s eyes. They don’t give one another cutesy nicknames that rhyme or have some significant meaning. They don’t do it at all.

Instead, they spend their time together at home (if they aren’t too busy working their asses off, of course). They eat take-out from down the street or whatever Koujaku chooses to cook that night and eat in a comfortable silence that doesn’t need words. They place their hands over one another or against each other, whichever works best, and entwine their fingers after a few minutes. Sometimes Noiz will give a gentle squeeze, one that Koujaku won’t really notice, just to make sure his hand is really there — just to really feel it.

They make-out passionately, fiercely, daily, and it always leads to sex in the end. Sometimes there are no marks. Sometimes there are plenty. Koujaku can count on both hands how many times he’s felt his neck garment rub against bite marks and bruises Noiz kindly left behind the night before, how many times he almost struggled to walk straight for a week and a half. There aren’t any complaints though, except for when’s the next round.

They don’t have nicknames for each other, names that actually mean anything. Koujaku is "old man" or "bastard" on a trying day while Noiz is simply "shitty brat". There’s no sweetness or bitterness to it; just other names that roll so easily off their tongues it’s like they were meant to be. There aren’t any complaints, and if there were neither of them say anything.

Sometimes Koujaku feels bad about their relationship. It’s not something he’d ever expected to be in after flirting around with women for so long — jewels that loved to be adored and fondled and spoiled and showed-off. Noiz is nothing like that — so stoic and stubborn and a pain-in-the-ass that Koujaku really thinks he’s leaped before looking right into deep shit. But Noiz has his moments — hugging him, touching him suddenly, kissing him softly — which happen so few and far in-between that Koujaku wonders if the actions really happen.

There aren’t any complaints though, not from him at all.

Noiz doesn’t really try that hard, nor does he expect Koujaku to make an effort. There really isn’t a reason to, he figures, since it’s all a matter of convenience; neither of them will be lonely and (funnily enough) they understand each other very well. He’s seen other couples in Midorijima while running errands for Rhyme — how they stand so close to each other it’s almost like they’re one person or how they stare so deeply into each other’s eyes it’s like they’re soul-searching. It’s sickening and stupid, Noiz thinks, and he hopes he never has to do something like that. There’s no love that deep between two strangers. He never had love from his own parents after all.

But Koujaku’s different — both in action and in words. Sometimes he’ll ruffle Noiz’s hair after he’s done something impressive or kind — like taking out the trash, looking after Beni, starting up a warm bath after the older man's had a long day at the salon— and when he compliments the younger man, Koujaku will stutter and pause for a moment, as if loss for words. Noiz doesn’t understand why but he doesn’t ask either. Let the old man do what pleases him, he thinks afterwards. I don’t care either way.

Yet he feels his heart thump against his chest wildly and his face heat up anyway.

And when they’ve had sex — which after awhile becomes making love — they don’t spew declarations of undying love to one another like ordinary couples do. They don’t have a reason to, with convenience and all that. No, they just lay in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms. Sometimes they spoon and hold hands. Sometimes they cuddle just to feel warmth from one another.

It doesn’t matter either way; they fall asleep together in the end.

And when morning comes and they both open their eyes, they gaze at each other for what feels like hours, searching for something — convenience, understanding, protection, love. When they find it, whatever it is, both men smile, finally smile at each other like shy schoolboys before kissing softly — their new way of saying "good morning" or "I love you" or "yes, this is what we’ve wanted for so long".

They aren’t like “normal couples”, who have it figured out right away that they’re made for each other.

But they figure it out.


End file.
